Shock Reality
by ElspethElf
Summary: Tristan Staghorn and Maura of Dunlath - can the impossible happen? Short story (set during Wolf Speaker)


This is in response to Seanfhocal challenge.

Recently I have been in an _extremely_ pro-Tristan mood and have decided to have a go at this highly unusual pairing – Tristan and Maura.

I'm not sure what to think of it. Feel free to comment.

Note about VO: (hide behind curtain) I promise the epilogue _will_ come out very soon!

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**Shock Reality**

**By ElspethElf**

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That laugh. That same rich laughter wrapped with teasing seduction, echoing with the promise of female mysteries and assurance. Then came the prolonged silence, interrupted only by short gasps as the lovers broke for air.

Maura scowled heatedly, grinding her teeth in frustration as her impulsive urge to run away clashed crudely with another – a sick, perverted, _desperate_ curiosity to linger and watch the two in interaction.

She knew there was something terribly wrong with her. Surely it was not natural to spy on her sister engaging with a lover, to memorise every single detail of it for the sole purpose of playing it back inside her head as she slept – picturing, imagining that it was she who was wrapped so tightly in his arms.

The silence was longer this time, and Maura had to bite her own hand to stop herself from screaming out. Her head exploded with anxiety to see what was happening. To see what they were doing.

There was a low murmur, and then a giggle. After a pause, Maura heard the man's voice whisper; 'I'll see you there in ten minutes.'

Almost immediately, Maura heard hurried footsteps coming her way. Panic-stricken, she looked about her to realise it was too late to run. In a fit of terror, the girl dropped clumsily on to her feet, her hand reaching for her shoes in the act of tying a lace.

'Maura? What are you doing here?'

Her hand trembled. Getting up ungracefully, she glared at Tristan Staghorn, her sister's lover.

'Well?' Tristan's eyes narrowed suspiciously. He took note of her flushing face and raised an eyebrow.

'I was on my way to my chamber, if you insist on knowing.' Maura bristled. 'And please do not look at me like that. You may have forgotten but this _is_ my home, so I will appreciate it if you'll stop questioning me like a servant.'

Tristan's eyes widened in amusement. 'Catty tonight, are we?' His mouth curled in a bemused smile, and Maura had to steady herself from falling. His face, lit by the glow of torchlight, was the most handsome thing she had ever seen. It was almost too painful to watch.

Catching the girl's stare, Tristan's smile faded a little. He regarded her silently for a moment, a look that could be described as thoughtful crept on to his tanned face. It lasted only for a moment because Maura suddenly announced loudly that she was going to bed. With another scowl, she dashed away awkwardly towards the corridor.

Tristan stared after her, listening to the uneven clip-clop of her shoes. Even after she had turned the corner, he still stood, rooted to the spot where he had caught the girl.

_Pretending to tie her shoelace_ he thought with a smirk.

He tried to laugh, tried hard to mock the clumsy girl who was, incredibly, related Yolane. He tried to cruelly compare the sister's differences – their looks, figures and grace. Shocked, he discovered that he could not.

Shaking slightly, Tristan made his way towards the stairs, walking hesitantly towards the guestroom. The resident of Dunlath rarely had guests, and the rooms often lay unoccupied. It was there that he and Yolane met during the night, feeding each other's needs behind the master of Dunlath.

Tristan smirked again, thinking of Yolane, waiting for him beneath the covers of the bed they shared.

For some reason, he found he could feel no excitement – or indeed _any_ emotions tonight. The meeting with Maura had somehow unexpectedly disturbed him, punched him violently in the stomach, bluntly disrupting his usual, self-assured manner.

It was something about the way she looked at him, with her eyes direct and frank. He had turned cold when her gaze pierced through him, turned cold with the horror that he _cared_ – cared about the way she regarded him, cared about what she thought of him.

It was no coincidence that she was there tonight. The thought of her watching him kissing and holding Yolane made him fill with sudden regret. Then he was angry.

'_Damn _you,' he hissed under his breath, '_damn_ you for making me like this!'

He hurried his steps, anxious to see Yolane again, to feel the reassurance of her soft touch. He was only attracted to women like her, women who were beautiful, well formed and compatible to his good looks.

Not even Black God's Realm could make him care for a dreary, unsightly girl child!

He stopped dead – shocked that he could even consider the possibility. His body shook violently with the realisation.

He barely noticed he had changed direction, and was heading back towards his own chamber. Somehow, the thought of Yolane had turned sour.

That night, Tristan dreamed of Yolane. She lay in bed, her hair falling grandly across her bare shoulders. She smiled at him, biding him closer.

He moved forwards instantly, taking her in his arms. The second he touched her skin, Yolane's face began to change. He stared at her in horror, as her beautiful face contorted. It took a while before he realised he was looking at the face of Maura.

His first reaction was of dismay at the transformation, and then another emotion: dismay at not minding it.

With a groan that was both resentment and craving, he reached forwards to touch her face. She surprised him with the softness of her cheeks, and the wonder in her eyes.

'Maura…' he whispered, leaning to kiss her. 'Oh, Gods – what's happening – '

He shot up, breathing heavily. At the same time, something dark flashed before his eyes, giving a squeak of fright.

'What the – _Maura_? The _hell_ are you playing at?'

The girl shrank back in terror. 'I'm sorry! I'm so sorry! I didn't mean to come in here! I – ' Her eyes shone with pure horror, and her voice reached a level of hysteria.

'How did you get in here?' Tristan found trouble using his voice.

'I…I found your door unlocked.' Maura took a step back. She never looked so scared.

Tristan closed his eyes, wishing that he were still asleep. 'This _cannot_ be happening to me!'

Maura narrowed her eyes. Despite her fright, she did not flee from his room.

'I heard you talking in your sleep,' she said somewhat questioningly.

'I'm sorry you find that offensive,' Tristan snapped, 'next time I do so, please feel free to barge in and demand for an apology.'

'You were talking about me.'

Tristan froze. 'What…did you say?'

'You were talking about me,' Maura repeated, staring at him hard, 'you said my name.'

'You…must have heard wrong.' Tristan gritted his teeth, frustration welling up. He really could not believe this was happening. What in Mithros name was she doing in his room in the middle of the night – and tonight of all nights?

And why did he feel so unbalanced, and so _nervous_?

A low growl escaped his throat. Maura backed away, as if preparing herself to be attacked. With a sudden turn, she strode towards the door.

'Where are you going?'

'I need a drink,' was her muffled squeak.

Tristan walked two steps behind her. With another growl, he said through gritted teeth, 'I need one too,' and closed the door behind him.


End file.
